The  Song  of 
the  Ancient  People 

By  Edna  Dean  Proctor 

with  Preface  and  Notes  by  John  Fiske 

and  Commentary  by  F  H  Gushing 

Illustrated  with  eleven  Aquatints 

By  Julian  Scott 


Boston  and  New  York 
Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company 

Cambrf&0e 
MDCCCXCIII 


Copyright,  1892, 

BY  THE   HKMENWAY  SOUTHWESTERN 
ARCHAEOLOGICAL  EXPEDITION. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co. 


i$t  of  2tquatint£ 


PAGE 


"  We  carry  our  new-born  children  forth."  Fron- 
tispiece. 
"  Ours  is  the  ancient  wisdom  "...        2 

Watching  the  Corn 4 

"  And  wile  the  wolf  from  his  den  "  .  .  .  5 
"  As  full  to  the  east  we  kneel "  .  .  .  .7 
"Twin  children  of  the  Sun"  .  .  .  .12 
"  The  silent  heart's  appeal"  .  .  .  .15 
"  Far  to  west,  Francisco's  peaks  ".  .  .  18 
"  We  are  the  Ancient  People 

Born  with  the  wind  and  rain  "  .  .  .20 
"  The  trickling  springs  at  the  mesa  foot "  .  22 
"  The  mountain  meadow's  bloom  "  .  .  .23 


preface 

IT  is  customary  to  speak  of  America  as 
the  New  World  ;  and  to  the  white  race  of 
men  it  is  indeed  a  world  that  has  but  re- 
cently been  made  known,  and  in  which 
European  civilization  has  begun  to  flourish 
under  new  conditions.  The  scene  of  the 
political  and  social  development  of  New 
York,  of  Manitoba,  or  of  Chili,  is  very 
properly  called  a  New  World.  But  there 
is  another  point  of  view  from  which  Amer- 
ica must  be  regarded  as  preeminently  an 
Old  World.  The  people  of  aboriginal 
America,  when  visited  by  Europeans  in 
the  time  of  Columbus  and  Cortes,  were  in 
a  stage  of  social  development  somewhat 
such  as  the  people  of  Europe  had  passed 
through  and  left  behind  some  centuries 
before  the  city  of  Rome  was  built,  or  the 
v 


Deface 

Greeks  had  begun  to  reckon  time  by 
Olympiads.  The  parallelism  is  not  in  all 
respects  complete,  but  it  is  very  striking 
and  instructive. 

There  can  be  no  doubt,  I  should  think, 
that  the  gradual  differentiation  of  the 
races  of  mankind  took  place  after  man 
had  become  distinctively  human,  and  in 
all  probability  this  differentiation  began 
in  the  Eastern  hemisphere.  In  other 
words,  the  aborigines  of  America  probably 
migrated  to  this  continent  either  from 
Asia  or  from  Europe.  But  these  things 
happened  a  great  while  ago,  probably  long 
before  the  Glacial  Period,  and  —  as  I  be- 
lieve it  will  ultimately  be  proved  —  even 
as  far  back  as  the  Pliocene  age.  The 
ancestors  of  the  Red  Men  doubtless  made 
their  way  hither  on  foot  during  some  one 
of  the  many  periods  when  North  America 
was  joined  both  to  Siberia  and  to  north- 
ern Europe.  Their  race-peculiarities  may 
have  been  developed  partly  in  the  slow 
vi 


dispersal  and  migration,  still  more  in  the 
countless  ages  during  which  they  have 
dwelt  upon  American  soil.  For  a  length 
of  time,  in  comparison  with  which  the 
interval  between  the  building  of  Solomon's 
temple  and  that  of  the  World's  Fair  edi- 
fices at  Chicago  seems  extremely  brief,  the 
isolation  of  America  from  the  Eastern 
hemisphere  was  complete.  All  attempts 
at  tracing  an  Asiatic  or  European  influ- 
ence upon  the  thoughts,  the  customs,  the 
arts  of  pre-Columbian  America  have 
failed  utterly.  There  is  little  room  for 
doubt  that  the  state  of  society  found  on 
this  continent  by  the  Spaniards  was  in  all 
its  phases  and  in  every  particular  a  purely 
American  growth.  Wherever  it  presented 
points  of  resemblance,  either  deep-seated 
or  superficial,  to  social  phenomena  in 
Europe  or  Asia,  the  true  explanation  is  to 
be  found  in  the  limited  range  of  culture 
and  the  similarity  in  the  workings  of  the 
human  mind  at  different  times  and  places, 
vii 


That  similarity  is  often  very  remarkable, 
as  the  comparative  study  of  languages,  of 
folk-lore,  and  of  institutions  abundantly 
teaches  us. 

Society  in  America,  then,  and  society 
in  the  Eastern  hemisphere  followed  each 
its  own  course  in  utter  independence 
and  ignorance  of  the  other.  There  were 
many  parallelisms,  both  curious  and  in- 
structive, between  the  two ;  as,  for  exam- 
ple, the  general  organization  of  society  in 
clans,  phratries,  and  tribes,  and  even  such 
special  correspondences  as  the  function 
of  the  phratry  in  prosecuting  criminals, 
among  Aztecs  and  Iroquois,  as  among  the 
ancient  Greeks  and  our  own  Germanic 
forefathers.  The  divergences  are  quite 
as  interesting  as  the  parallelisms.  Social 
development  in  America  proceeded  much 
more  slowly  than  in  Europe ;  and  the  ad- 
vance toward  civilization  among  the  Mexi- 
cans, Mayas,  and  Peruvians  had  begun  to 
take  on  a  very  different  aspect  from  any- 
viii 


thing  ever  seen  in  the  Eastern  hemi- 
sphere. The  causes  of  the  slowness  of 
social  progress  in  ancient  America  were 
complex,  but  one  very  important  cause 
may  here  be  singled  out  for  mention. 
The  dog,  used  chiefly  for  hunting,  was 
from  time  immemorial  domesticated  in 
both  hemispheres ;  but  of  those  agricul- 
tural animals  —  the  ass,  horse,  camel,  ox, 
goat,  sheep,  and  hog  —  the  New  World 
had  not  one.  The  effects  of  this  differ- 
ence were  very  profound  and  very  far- 
reaching.  The  longest  strides  towards 
civilization  that  ever  were  taken  in  tho 
Old  World  were  the  evolution  of  the  patri- 
archal family  in  place  of  the  old  mater- 
nally-related clan,  and  of  private  wealth  in 
place  of  the  primitive  communism,  and 
both  these  strides  were  closely  connected 
with  the  keeping  of  flocks  and  herds.  In 
the  Mediterranean  countries  these  strides 
had  been  taken  before  the  times  of  Aga- 
memnon or  of  Abraham.  In  aboriginal 
ix 


preface 

America,  where  there  was  never  a  pastoral 
stage  of  social  development,  they  were 
never  taken  at  all.  Of  the  vast  mass  of 
ideas  and  sentiments  originating  in  indis- 
soluble wedlock,  with  the  accumulation 
and  inheritance  of  private  property,  the 
minds  of  the  Red  Men  were  destitute. 
In  this  respect,  and  in  general,  society  in 
the  Western  hemisphere  lagged  at  least 
sixty  or  seventy  centuries,  and  perhaps 
more,  behind  society  in  the  Eastern. 
The  dim  past  that  lies  back  of  European 
history  is  to  some  extent  brought  before 
us  in  the  Red  Man  contemporary  with  us. 
Except  for  changes  wrought  by  contact 
with  white  men,  his  mental  furnishing 
and  his  social  arrangements  are  in  many 
ways  like  those  of  our  own  forefathers  in 
that  far-off  time  when  the  Aryan  mother- 
speech  was  forming.  Such,  at  least,  is 
the  legitimate  inference  from  all  the  facts 
before  us ;  and  thus  it  appears  that  in  a 
very  deep  sense  America  may  be  regarded 
x 


as  preeminently  an  Old  World,  and  its 
native  inhabitants  as  especially  an  Ancient 
People.  If  not  in  all  senses  more  ancient 
than  ourselves,  they  are  unquestionably 
more  old-fashioned. 

Among  the  aboriginal  Americans  there 
were,  and  still  are,  great  and  important 
differences  in  degree  of  culture.  The 
highest  grade  reached  anywhere  was  a 
barbarism  without  iron  or  the  alphabet, 
but  in  some  respects  simulating  civiliza- 
tion, and  unquestionably  different  from 
anything  ever  seen  at  any  time  in  the 
Eastern  hemisphere.  Without  beasts  of 
draught,  the  Red  Man  had  no  use  for  a 
plough  or  a  wheel-carriage.  Agriculture, 
properly  so  called,  was  impossible,  but  a 
certain  kind  of  rude  horticulture  was  prac- 
ticed, in  which  the  ground  was  scratched 
and  hoed,  and  maize,  pumpkins,  tobacco, 
and  other  vegetables  were  grown.  Chief 
among  these  plants  was  the  maize,  the 
Indian  corn,  most  beautiful  and  beneficent 
xi 


of  the  cereals,  and  as  typical  of  ancient 
American  culture  as  the  cow  was  typical 
of  private  property  (peculium)  among  the 
early  Aryans.  No  other  plant  is  so  inti- 
mately associated  with  the  whole  aborigi- 
nal history  of  the  Western  hemisphere  as 
Indian  corn.  Far  more  than  any  other 
plant  it  is  the  emblem  of  America.  In  the 
southwestern  portion  of  the  territory  of 
the  United  States,  and  thence  southward 
along  the  Cordilleras  as  far  as  Lake  Titi- 
caca,  the  aborigines  cultivated  this  cereal 
systematically  and  on  an  extensive  scale 
with  the  aid  of  irrigation.  This  improved 
horticulture  was  the  chief  basis  of  the 
semi-civilizations  of  the  Cordilleras.  With 
the  increase  of  population  clans  grew  to 
large  dimensions,  and  learned  to  build  for 
themselves  great  communal  fortresses  of 
adobe-brick  and  ultimately  of  stone.  These 
pueblo-castles  and  their  neighboring  gar- 
dens of  maize  are  typical  of  the  most  ad- 
vanced society  in  aboriginal  America,  as 
xii 


preface 

tents  and  herds  of  cattle  were  once  typi- 
cal of  the  most  progressive  societies  in* 
the  Eastern  hemisphere.  The  city  of 
Mexico,  which  was  so  bewildering  to  its 
Spanish  visitors  and  conquerors,  was  doubt- 
less a  collection  of  such  communal  for- 
tresses. 

The  Pueblo  Indians  of  New  Mexico  and 
Arizona  are  still  surviving  examples  of 
this  advanced  aboriginal  society.  In  many 
respects  they  do  not  seem  to  have  attained 
to  as  high  a  stage  of  semi-civilization  as 
the  Mayas  and  Mexicans,  but  they  are  to 
be  classed  with  these  peoples  as  belonging 
to  a  stage  far  more  advanced  than  the  partly 
hunting  and  partly  horticultural  Indians 
of  North  America,  such  as  the  Creeks  or 
the  Iroquois.  Of  the  Pueblo  Indians  the 
principal  surviving  groups  are  those  of 
the  Rio  Grande  valley,  the  Zuftis  of  New 
Mexico,  and  the  Moquis  (or  Hopi)  of  Ari- 
zona. The  two  last-named  groups  have 
been  less  affected  by  contact  with  white 
xiii 


preface 

men  than  those  of  the  Rio  Grande.  In 
many  respects  the  Zuftis  are  the  most 
characteristic  and  interesting  of  all.  But 
the  pueblos  least  modified  by  contact  with 
white  men  are  surely  those  of  the  Moquis, 
with  whom  my  friend  Mr.  Julian  Scott 
lived  for  a  year  or  so,  and  from  whom  he 
has  taken  the  subjects  of  some  of  his  most 
charming  sketches  in  the  present  volume. 
Few  Americans  realize  how  highly  our 
country  is  favored  in  having  within  its 
limits  such  communities  as  those  of  the 
Moquis  and  Zufiis.  Our  land  is  certainly 
lacking  in  such  features  of  human  interest 
as  the  ruins  of  mediaeval  castles  and  Gre- 
cian temples.  But  we  may  be  to  some  ex- 
tent consoled  when  we  reflect  that  within 
our  broad  domains  we  have  surviving  rem- 
nants of  a  state  of  society  so  old-fashioned 
as  to  make  that  of  the  Book  of  Genesis 
seem  modern  by  comparison.  In  some 
respects  the  Moquis  and  Zunis  may  be 
called  half-civilized;  but  their  turn  of 
xiv 


thought  is  still  very  primitive.  They  are 
peaceful  and  self-respecting  people,  and  in 
true  refinement  of  behavior  are  far  su- 
perior to  ourselves.  We  have  still  much 
to  learn  from  them  concerning  ancient 
society,  and  we  ought  not  to  be  in  too 
great  a  hurry  to  civilize  them,  especially 
if  they  do  not  demand  it  of  us. 

Miss  Proctor's  noble  and  spirited  poem 
speaks  for  itself  and  tells  its  own  story. 
As  a  rendering  of  Moqui-Zufii  thought  it 
is  a  contribution  of  great  and  permanent 
value  to  American  literature.  So  it  was 
regarded  —  as  I  think  it  permissible  to  tell 
—  by  our  beloved  poet  Whittier,  who  has 
just  left  us.  Miss  Proctor  had  entitled 
her  poem  simply  "The  Ancient  People," 
but  when  Mr.  Whittier  listened  with  keen 
pleasure  to  the  reading  of  it,  he  said  at 
once  that  it  should  be  called  "  The  Song 
of  the  Ancient  People ; "  for  do  we  not 
hear  their  own  voice  and  feel  their  own 
heart's  beat  in  every  line  ?  The  poet's 
xv 


instinct  was  here  as  sure  as  if  he  had  been 
an  ethnologist. 

The  poem,  I  say,  tells  its  own  story ; 
but  as  Mr.  Gushing  also  feels  a  lively  in- 
terest in  that  story,  we  could  not  lose  the 
opportunity  to  have  him  further  elucidate 
and  enrich  it  in  his  "  Commentary  of  a 
Zufti  Familiar."  Somewhat  as  the  old 
hymns  of  the  Veda  had  their  commen- 
tary, half  poetical,  half  philosophical,  in 
the  Upanishads,  so  in  a  somewhat  similar 
way  —  though  all  such  comparisons  need 
qualification  —  does  "The  Song  of  the 
Ancient  People"  find  further  interpreta- 
tion at  the  hands  of  the  adopted  priest  of 
the  Zunis. 

For  such  phrases  and  allusions  in  the 
poem  as  seem  to  need  explanation  for  the 
general  reader,  I  have  appended  explana- 
tory notes ;  and  in  these  notes,  so  far  as 
the  pictures  are  concerned,  I  have  em- 
bodied sundry  materials  furnished  by  Mr. 
Julian  Scott.  While  my  own  share  in  the 
xvi 


book  has  been  a  brief  and  humble  one,  I 
shall  never  forget  the  delightful  sense  of 
comradeship  aroused  in  working  with  such 
friends  and  allies.  But  I  am  sure  we 
should  all  feel  this  little  book  to  be  sadly 
incomplete  and  ungrateful,  if  in  its  Preface 
no  mention  were  to  be  made  of  our  be- 
loved and  revered  friend,  Mrs.  Mary  Hem- 
enway,  to  whose  enlightened  and  untiring 
zeal  American  archaeology,  no  less  than 
the  later  history  of  our  country,  is  more 
deeply  indebted  than  is  ever  likely  to  be 
generally  known. 

JOHN  FISKE 
xvii 


oe 

Cl)e  ancient  people 


of 
ancient 


WE  are  the  Ancient  People  ; 

Our  father  is  the  Sun  ; 
Our   mother,   the   Earth,  where   the 
mountains  tower 

And  the  rivers  seaward  run  ; 
The   stars   are   the   children   of    the 
sky, 

The  red  men,  of  the  plain  ; 
And  ages  over  us  both  had  rolled 

Before  you  crossed  the  main  ;  — 
For  we  are  the  Ancient  People, 

Born  with  the  wind  and  rain. 

And  ours  is  the  ancient  wisdom, 
The  lore  of  Earth  and  cloud  :  — 


I     A 

Jfcj£ 


f 


*""     fSygf^r- 


Ancient 

We  know  what  the  awful  lightnings 

mean, 
Wi-lo-loa-ne  with  arrows  keen, 

And  the  thunder  crashing  loud ;  — 
And  why  with  his  glorious,  burning 

shield 

His  face  the  Sun-God  hides, 
As,  glad  from  the  east,  while  night 

recedes, 
Over  the  Path  of  Day  he  speeds 

To  his  home  in  the  ocean  tides ; 
For  the  Deathless  One  at  eve  must 

die, 

To  flame  anew  in  the  nether  sky,  — 
Must  die,  to  mount  when  the  Morning 

Star, 

First  of  his  warrior-host  afar, 
Bold  at  the  dawning  rides  ! 
And  we  carry  our  new-born  children 

forth 

His  earliest  beams  to  face, 
2 


indent  people 

And  pray  he  will  make  them  strong 

and  brave 

As  he  looks  from  his  shining  place,  — 
Wise  in  council  and  firm  in  war, 
And  fleet  as  the  wind  in  the  chase ;  — 
And  why  the  Moon,  the  Mother  of 

Souls, 

On  summer  nights  serene, 
Fair  from  the  azure  vault  of  heaven 

To  Earth  will  fondly  lean, 
While  her  sister  laughs  from  the  tran- 
quil lake, 

Soft-robed  in  rippling  sheen  ; 
For  the  Moon  is  the  bride  of  the  glow- 
ing Sun, 

But  the  Goddess  of  Love  is  she 
Who   beckons   and   smiles  from  the 

placid  depths 
Of    the    lake    and    the    shell-strown 

sea;  — 

Why  the  Rainbow,  A-mi-to-lan-ne, 
3 


Zvutont  people 

From  the  Medicine  lilies  drew 
Orange  and  rose  and  violet 

Before  the  fall  of  the  dew,  — 
The  dews  that  guard  the  Corn-maids, 

And  the  fields  keep  fair  to  view ; 
But  the  Rainbow  is  false  and  cruel, 

For  it  ends  the  gentle  showers, 
And  the  opening  leaves  and  the  ten- 
der buds 

Like  the  ruthless  worm  devours, 
And  still  its  stolen  tints  are  won 
From  the  blanching,  withering  flow- 
ers ; 
The  Morning  Star,  the  Sun,  and  the 

Moon  — 
Ya-o-na,   Ya-to-k'-ya,  and  Md-ya- 

tchun  — 

Bring  bounty  and  love  and  life, 
But  the  Bow  of  the  Skies  and  the 

Lightning 

With  famine  and  death  are  rife, 
4 


#ncintt 

And  we  paint  their  forms  on  our  ar- 
row-shafts 

And  our  shields,  when  battle  lowers:  — 
We  know  what  the  breeze  to  the  pine- 
tree  sings, 

And  the  brook  to  the  meadow  fair, 
And  the  eagle  screams  to  the  plunging 

streams 

Where  the  cliffs  are  cold  and  bare,  — 
The  eagle,  bird  of  the  Whirlwind-God, 

Lone-wheeling  through  the  air; 
And  we  can  charm  the  serpent's  tooth, 

And  wile  the  wolf  from  his  den, 
For  the  beasts  have  told  us  their  se- 
crets 

Close-kept  from  other  men,  — 
The  mighty  beasts  that  rove  the  hills, 

Or  lurk  in  cave  and  fen  : 
The  bear  in  his  gloomy  cafion ; 

High  'mid  the  crags,  the  sheep ; 
The  antelope,  whose  endless  files 
5 


#ndntt 

O'er  the  far  mesa's  rocky  isles 
Their  silent  marches  keep  ; 
The  lordly  bison  with  his  herds ; 

Coyote  swift  and  sly  ; 
The  badger  in  his  earthy  house 

Where  warm  the  sunbeams  lie ; 
The  savage  mountain  lion 

With  his  deadly  roar  and  leap :  — 
And,  when  the  serpent  has  sought  his 

lair 

And  the  thunder  peal  is  still, 
We  know  why  the  down  of  the  North- 
land drifts 

O'er  wood  and  waste  and  hill ; 
And  how  the  light-winged  butterflies 
To  the  brown  fields  summer  bear, 
And  the  balmy  breath  of  the  Corn- 
maids  floats 

In  June's  enchanted  air ; 
And  when  to  pluck  the  Medicine  flow- 
ers 

6 


ancient  people 

On  the  brow  of  the  mountain  peak, 
The  lilies  of  Te-na-tsa-li, 

That  brighten  the  faded  cheek, 
And  heal  the  wounds  of  the  warrior 
And  the  hunter  worn  and  weak ; 
And  where   in   the  hills  the  crystal 

stones 

And  the  turquoise  blue  to  seek ; 
And  how  to  plant  the  earliest  maize, 

Sprinkling  the  sacred  meal, 
And  setting  our  prayer-plumes  in  the 

midst 

As  full  to  the  east  we  kneel,  — 
The  plumes  whose  life  shall  waft  our 

wish 

To  the  heights  the  skies  conceal ; 
Nay,  when  the  stalks  are  parched  on 

the  plain 

And  the  deepest  springs  are  dry, 
And  the  Water-God,  the  jeweled  toad, 
Is  lost  to  every  eye, 
7 


ancient 

With  song  and  dance  and  voice  of  flutes 

That  soothe  the  Regions  Seven, 
We    can    call    the   blessed    summer 
showers 

Down  from  the  listening  heaven  ! 
For  ours  is  the  lore  of  a  dateless  past, 

And  we  have  power  thereby,  — 
Power   which    our  vanished    fathers 
sought 

Through  toil  and  watch  and  pain, 
Till  the  spirits  of  wood  and  wave  and 
air 

To  grant  us  help  were  fain  j 
For  we  are  the  Ancient  People, 

Born  with  the  wind  and  rain. 

And,  year  by  year,  when  the  mellow 

moons 

Beam  over  the  mountain  wall, 
Or  the  hearths   are  bright  with  the 
pifion  fires 
8 


c 


indent  people 

And  the  wild  winds  rise  and  fall, 
Our  precious  things  to  their  shrines 

are  brought 
That   the   tribes   may  be   brave   and 

strong ; 

And  round  our  altars  with  mystic  rite, 
Vigil  and  fast  and  song's  delight, 

And  measured  dance  we  throng,  — 
The  dance  and  prayers  of  the  A'-ka-ka 

That  peace  and  joy  prolong. 
Of  the  Wood-Gods*  flesh  these  altars 
To    the    Great     Six    Realms    we 

frame :  — 

For  the  North,  of  the  Pine,  whose  yel- 
low heart 

Nor  blasts  nor  snows  can  tame ; 
For  the  West,  of  the  Willow,  whose 

leaves  are  blue 

As  they  toss  in  the  breeze  at  morn ; 
For  the  South,  of  the  Cedar,  ruddy, 
hued, 

9 


Ancient 

From  whose  bark  the  flame  is  born ; 
For  the  East,  of  the  Poplar,  downy- 
white 

In  the  dawn  of  the  gladsome  year ; 
For  the  Realm  Above,  of  the  Juniper, 
That  climbs  to  the  summits  clear ; 
And  of  Laurel  Root,  for  the  Realm 

Below, 

Deep-hid  in  the  canons  drear  ;  — 
Frame  that  the  Beings   Beloved  may 

come 

And  their  forms  and  thoughts  re- 
veal ; 
For  naught,  from  the  heart  through 

vigils  pure, 

Will  the  Mighty  Ones  conceal. 
Our  richest  robes  and  brightest  hues 

For  the  watching  sky  we  wear, 
With  necklace-beads  and  eagle-plumes 

Above  our  flowing  hair, 
And  yellow  pollen  over  us  blown, 
10 


ancient 


And  of  the  two  immortal  youths, 

Twin  children  of  the  Sun, 
Who  eastward  led  their  faltering  bands 
To  find  where  morn  begun,  — 

To  gain  the  stable,  midmost  lands, 
And  the  trembling  borders  shun; 
And  of  P6-shai-an-k'ya,  the  master, 

Whose  help  we  never  lose, 
Who  bade  us  turn  from  hate  and  guile 

And  ever  the  noblest  choose, 
And  said  that  whoso  smites  a  man 

His  own  heart  doth  bruise. 
Of  Earth  and  the  Gods  he  taught  us,  — 

How  slope  and  plain  to  till, 
And   the  streams  that  fall  from  the 
mountain  snows 

To  turn  and  store  at  will  ; 
And  how  to  trace  the  glorious  Sun 

North  and  south  to  his  goal  ; 
And  'straight,  when  the  body's  life  is 
done, 

12 


#ntient 


Set  free  the  prisoned  soul  ! 
His  voice  was  sweet  as  the  summer 

wind, 

But  his  robe  was  poor  and  old, 
And,  scorned  of  men,  he  journeyed 

far 

To  the  city  the  mists  enfold,  — 
Far  to  the  land  where  his  treasured 

lore 

And  secret  rites  were  told  ; 
And  there  with  a  chosen  few  he  dwelt 

And  made  their  darkness  day, 
Till  lo!  while  his  words  yet  thrilled 

their  hearts, 
Unseen,  as  the  summer  wind  departs, 

He  vanished  in  mist  away  !  — 
Passed  to  the  splendor  of  the  Sun, 
He,  the  divine,  the  gracious  one, 

To  hear  our  prayers  for  aye  ! 
And  still  our  holy  fires  we  keep, 
And  the  sacred  meal  we  strow, 
13 


#ncmtt  people 

/ 

With  many  a  prayer  to  the  Gods  of 

the  air 

And  the  Gods  that  dwell  below,  — 
The  Gods  of  the  Great  Six  Regions : 

The  yellow,  dreadful  North ; 
The  West,  with  the  blue  of  sea  and 

sky; 
The  ruddy  South,  where  the  corals  lie 

And  the  fragrant  winds  go  forth  ; 
The  pure  white  East,  whose  virgin 

dawns 

Lead  up  the  conquering  Sun, 
While  stars  grow  pale  and  shadows 

fail, 

For  the  shrouding  night  is  done ; 
The  Over-world,  where  all  the  hues 

In  radiant  beauty  shine ; 
The    Under-world,   more   black  and 

drear 

Than  the  gloom   of    the    deepest 
mine; 

14 


Ancient 

And  the    Middle   Realm,   where    the 

Mother  reigns 

And  binds  them  all  in  one  ;  — 
Prayers  in  the  words  our  fathers 

knew, 

And  prayers  that  voiceless  steal 
To  the  Holder  of  the  Trails  of  Life 

And  thought  to  thought  reveal ! 
For  the  clamorous  cry  unheard  will 

die, 
While,  swift  as  light,  ascends  on  high 

The  silent  heart's  appeal. 
And  we  offer  the  pledge  of  sacrifice 

To  lull  the  earthquake's  wrath, 
And  hush  the  roar  of  the  whirlwind 

Abroad  on  his  furious  path,  — 
Turquoise  blue,  and  ocean-shells, 
And  the  soothing,  spicy  scent  that 

dwells 

In  the  rare  tobacco  leaves, 
And  macaw-plumes  to  guard  from  ill 
15 


Ancient  JjOeople 

And  bring  us  store  of  sheaves ; 
Nay,    in    the    time    when     thunders 

pealed 

And  Earth  swung  to  and  fro, 
Our  dearest  maids  to  the  angry  Gods 

With  fervent  heart  would  go, 
That  the  perfect  gift  of  a  stainless  life 

Might  still  the  vengeful  throe  ;  — 
For  our  fathers  were  wise  and  pure  of 

breath, 

The  breath  that  is  soul  the  word  be- 
neath, 

And  all  their  ways  we  know. 
And  when  at  last  the  shadow  falls 

And  the  sleep  no  thunders  wake, 
By  the  dead  a  vase  of  water  clear 

For  the  parted  soul  we  break, 
Giving  the  life  again  to  the  Sun 

Through  Ka-thlu-el'-lon's  Lake; 
And,  facing  the  east,  the  body  lay 

In  our  mother  Earth  to  rest, 
16 


ancient 

Where  dews  may  fall  and  dawns  may 

gleam 
And    purple    and   crimson    radiance 

stream 

When  day  is  low  in  the  west ; 
And  plumes  of  the  birds  of  summer- 
land, 

Freighted  with  many  a  prayer, 
We  bring  to  help  the  spirit's  way 

In  the  pathless  depths  of  air. 
But  we  do  not  fear  that  silent  flight, 

Nor  the  slumber  lone  and  chill ; 
For  the  Home  of  the  Dead  has  song 

and  love, 

And  they  wander  where  they  will ; 
And   morn   and  eve,  by  hearth   and 

wood, 

We  see  their  faces  still. 
Thus,  day  and  night,  and  night  and  day, 

Our  rites  the  Gods  enchain, 
And  bring  us  peace  no  others  win 


#ncintt  people 

Of  all  their  earthly  train ; 
For  we  are  the  Ancient  People, 
Born  with  the  wind  and  rain. 

And    yet  .  .  .  and    yet  ...  on   the 

mesa  top 

As  we  sit  when  the  sun  is  low, 
And,  far  to  west,  Francisco's  peaks 

Blaze  in  his  parting  glow,  — 
While    plain,   and    rock,   and  cedar- 
steep 

Fade  slow  from  rose  to  gray, 
And   the   sand-clouds,  blown   by  the 

flying  wind, 

Like  demons  chase  the  day ; 
And  the  fires  of  the  wandering  mete- 
ors gleam, 

And  the  dire  mirage  looms  far 
To  beckon  us  hence  to  the  nameless 

land 

Where  our  Lost  Others  are ; 
18 


Ancient 


And,  weird  as  the  wail  by  the  Spirit 

Lake 

Bewildered  hunters  know, 
The  cry  of  the  owl  comes  mournful  up 

From  the  dusky  glen  below,  — 
That  boding  cry  when  death  is  nigh 

And  days  that  are  dim  with  woe  ;  — 
Sit,  and  think  that  but  ruins  mark 

The  realm  that  erst  was  ours, 
The  countless  cities  wrapped  in  dust 

Which  once  were  stately  powers, 
And  that  over  our  race,  as  over  the 

plain, 

The  gathering  darkness  lowers  ; 
And  see  how  great  from  the  Sunrise- 

land 

You  come  with  every  boon, 
We  know  that  ours  is  the  waning, 
And  yours  is  the  waxing  moon  ! 
Know   that   our  grief   and   yearning 
prayers, 

19 


Ancient 

As  reeds  in  the  blast,  are  vain, 
And  with  arrows  of  keenest  anguish 

Our  tortured  hearts  are  slain ; 
For  we  are  the  Ancient  People, 

Born  with  the  wind  and  rain ! 

But  the  same  Earth  spreads  for  us  and 
you, 

And  death  for  both  is  one ; 
Why  should  we  not  be  brothers  true 

Before  our  day  is  done  ? 
You  are  many  and  great  and  strong ; 

We,  only  a  remnant  weak; 
Our  heralds  call  at  sunset  still, 
Yet  ah,  how  few  on  plain  or  hill 

The  evening  councils  seek  ! 
And  words  are  dead  and  lips  are  dumb 

Our  hopeless  woe  to  speak. 
For  the  fires  grow  cold,  and  the  dances 
fail, 

And  the  songs  in  their  echoes  die  ; 
20 


Ancient  people 


And  what  have  we  left  but  the  graves 

beneath, 

And,  above,  the  waiting  sky  ?  — 
Our  fathers    sought   these   frowning 

cliffs 

To  rid  them  of  their  foes, 
And   thrice  and  more,  on  the   mesa 

floor, 

Our  terraced  towns  uprose  ; 
But  when  the  stress  of  war  was  past, 

To  the  lowlands  glad  we  went, 
For    the    plain  —  the    plain    is    our 

domain, 

The  home  of  our  hearts'  content  ; 
And  here,  O  brothers,  let  us  dwell 

And  find  at  last  repose, 
By  towering  Ta-ai-yal'-lo-ne, 

And  the  river  that  westward  goes  ! 
For  the  roads  were  long  and  rough  we 

trod 

To  our  fields  of  clustering  corn, 
21 


indent  people 

And  our  women  grew  old  ere  youth 

was  spent, 

As  wearily,  night  and  morn, 
They   climbed    the    steep    with    the 

earthen  jars, 

Slow-filled,  to  the  very  brim, 
From   the    trickling    springs   at  the 

mesa  foot 

In  the  willow  thickets  dim. 
Time  was  when  seen  from  the  loftiest 

peak 

The  realm  was  all  our  own, 
And  only  the  words  of  the  A-shi-wi 

To  the  four  winds  were  known ;  — 
Ours  were  the  veins  of  silver ; 
The  rivers'  bounteous  flow 
Filling  the  maze  of  our  water-ways 

From  the  heights  to  the  vales  below ; 
The  plains  outspreading  to  the  sky, 

The  crags,  the  canon's  gloom, 
The  cedar  shades,  the  pinon  groves, 
22 


Ancient  people 

The  mountain  meadow's  bloom  ; 
Nay,  even  the  very  Sun  was  ours, 

Above  us  circling  slow ! 
And  now  .  .  .  and  now  .  .  .  from  the 
lowest  hill 

Your  pastures  we  descry ; 
Your  speech  is  borne  on  every  breeze 

That  blows  the  mesas  by ; 
Our  deep  canals  are  furrows  faint 

On  the  wide  and  desert  plain ; 
Of  the  grandeur  of  our  temple-walls 

But  mounds  of  earth  remain, 
And  over  our  altars  and  our  graves 

Your  towns  rise  proud  and  high ! 
The  bison  is  gone,  and  the  antelope 

And  the  mountain  sheep  will  follow, 
And  all  our  lands  your  restless  bands 

Will  search  from  height  to  hollow ; 
And  the  world  we  knew  and  the  life 
we  lived 

Will  pass  as  the  shadows  fly 
23 


Ancient 

When  the  morning  wind  blows  fresh 

and  free 

And  daylight  floods  the  sky. 
Alas  for  us  who  once  were  lords 

Of  stream  and  peak  and  plain  !  .  .  . 
By  ages  done,  by  Star  and  Sun, 

We  will  not  brook  disdain  ! 
No !  though  your  strength  were  thou- 
sand-fold 

From  farthest  main  to  main  ; 
For  we  are  the  Ancient  People, 
Born  with  the  wind  and  rain ! 
24 


of  a  Znm  familiar 

BY  F.  H.  GUSHING 


Commentarp 

IN  commenting  upon  this  Song  of  the 
Ancient  People,  one  is  strongly  tempted  to 
treat  it  in  the  mood  and  with  the  charac- 
teristic turns  of  phrase  of  a  Zufii  Familiar. 
The  poem  itself  seems  to  invite  such  a 
course,  —  so  ancient  is  it  in  spirit  and 
feeling,  so  true  to  the  thought  and  the  lore 
of  the  people  it  speaks  for.  It  may  be 
likened  to  a  torchlight  borne  through  the 
deep  reaches  of  a  primeval  forest  at  mid- 
night, giving  vivid  glimpses  of  the  teem- 
ing mythic  forms  of  ancient  Pueblo  fancy 
and  wisdom ;  so  many  and  so  representa- 
tive are  the  points  which  Miss  Proctor,  in 
briefly  touching  them,  has  illumined  with 
her  genius.  My  slender  excuse  for  the 
following  commentary  is  the  desire  to  ex- 
pand some  of  the  brief  allusions  of  her 
poem ;  to  carry  the  light  now  and  then 
somewhat  further  along  the  forest  trail, 
and  get  a  fuller  view  of  the  creatures  of 
27 


Conttttttttarp 

primeval  fancy.  To  explore  the  whole 
labyrinth  of  myth  and  imagery  native  to 
the  Ancient  People  would  require  many 
stout  volumes.  In  the  little  that  is  here 
added  to  Miss  Proctor's  verses  I  can  but 
bear  witness  to  her  strict  fidelity  of  state- 
ment, and  attempt  to  show,  as  one  of  the 
Ancient  People  themselves  would  be  glad 
to  show,  how  well  she  has  divined  their 
spirit. 

Let  me  seize  this  opportunity  for  saying 
a  word  about  the  poetry  of  primitive  men. 
We  can  hardly  emphasize  too  strongly  the 
fact  —  to  which  many  people  are  quite 
blind  —  that  but  for  our  slender  inherit- 
ance traditionally,  and  our  still  more  slen- 
der inheritance  emotionally,  of  the  mood  of 
primeval  humanity,  all  that  is  best  in  mod- 
ern poetry  would  be  lost.  When  I  give 
but  a  poor  translation  of  some  ancient  Zufii 
epos  or  myth,  I  often  hear  the  incredu- 
lous remark:  "It  cannot  be  that  those 
people  are  so  poetical.  Surely  it  is  impos- 
sible for  them,  without  the  art  of  writing, 
to  give  such  finished  and  measured,  even 
rhythmic  expression  to  their  thoughts !  " 

It  must  be  remembered  that  to  one  of 
28 


Commentary 

the  Ancient  People  everything  is  symbolic; 
even  the  wind  itself  is  breath  and  can 
speak;  all  natural  phenomena  are  either 
personalities  or  personal  acts.  Such  con- 
ceptions are  woven  into  the  very  fibre  of 
his  speech,  and  dramatized  in  the  very  acts 
of  his  daily  life.  The  symbolic  interpre- 
tation of  nature  results  in  myth,  the  dra- 
maturgic presentation  of  myth  results  in 
the  dance  and  song  of  measured  words ; 
and  thus  among  the  Zunis  have  arisen 
an  astonishing  number  of  epic  recitations 
which,  but  for  their  too  intense  solemnity 
and  their  lofty  disregard  of  the  merely 
human  element  in  the  story,  might  fairly 
be  classed  with  the  Eddas  of  our  Scandi- 
navian ancestors.  I  am  sure  they  would 
not  lose  by  the  comparison.  It  is  quite 
right,  therefore,  that  in  giving  us  the  utter- 
ances of  the  Ancient  People  the  modern 
poet  should  clothe  them  with  rhythm  and 
rhyme,  and  call  her  poem  a  "  Song." 

If  my  commentary  upon  the  poem  is 
dictated  mainly  by  what  I  know  of  the 
Zuni  people,  and  is  rendered  as  the  utter- 
ance of  one  of  themselves,  it  need  not  be 
feared  that  my  statements  will  fail  to  apply 
29 


Commentary 

to  the  people  of  the  other  pueblos  as  well. 
The  Zunis  are  as  ancient  as  any  of  these 
peoples,  and  even  to-day  they  enjoy  a 
kind  of  preeminence.  More  than  half  of 
their  mythic  lore  and  phrases  have  been 
adopted  by  the  more  primitive  Tusayan 
Indians  (Moquis)  of  Arizona,  and  much 
has  been  taken  from  them  by  the  more 
modernized  pueblos  of  the  Rio  Grande. 

With  Miss  Proctor  I  can  say  these  an- 
cient peoples  all  call  the  Sun  their  Father, 
and  never  fail  to  speak  of  him  as  such. 
It  was  said  by  their  ancient  seers  :  Before 
aught  was,  before  even  Time  began  to  be, 
the  Holder  of  the  Trails  of  Life,  whose 
person  is  the  Sun,  whose  bright  shield  we 
see  each  shining  day,  —  before  aught  was, 
save  void  space  and  darkness,  He  was. 
And  by  thinking  he  wrought  light,  and 
with  light  he  dispelled  the  darkness,  whence 
descended  clouds  and  water,  even  as  from 
the  night  fall  mists  of  the  morning  laden 
with  moisture.  Into  these  life-sustaining 
waters  he  dropped  the  seed  of  his  being, 
whence  sprang  the  Sky-Father  and  the 
Earth-Mother.  Born  of  these  twain  were 
all  creatures  here  below,  numberless  on 
30 


Commentary 

the  plains,  as  in  the  sky.  Born  of  his  sis- 
ter, the  Moon-Mother,  were  the  lesser  stars, 
themselves  our  brothers  paternal  even  as 
we  are  their  brothers  younger. 

The  Red  Men,  dusky  with  the  darkness 
of  their  birth  from  the  fourfold  womb  of 
the  Earth-Mother,  and  ruddy  with  the  life 
she  gave  them,  were  the  earliest  born  of 
men.    Even  the  seven  wind-making  Grand- 
sires    came    forth   with   them,   and    they 
brought  the  seeds  of  rain  and  storm.    Such 
were  our  fathers,  —  fathers    of   the   man- 
races  of  men.    For  when  your  fathers  came 
from  over  the  Sea  of  Sunrise,  they  were 
white  like  the  Dawn  whom  they  followed, 
and   weakly   withal   like   women,   and    in 
these  our  deserts  they  often  died  of  thirst. 
Wherefore  said  our  ancient  seers :  These 
palefaces  must  be  our  younger  brothers, 
the  woman-men  born  on  the  other  side  of 
the  world,  when,  after  giving  birth  to  us, 
our  Earth-Mother  turned  over,  perchance 
that  she  might  give  birth  to  them.     Yet 
how  could  ye  have  been  born  had  not  the 
Twain  own  children  of  the  Sun,  the  War- 
riors of  Chance,  descended  and  planted  the 
world-canes   in   the  nethermost  womb  of 
31 


Commentary 

Earth,  that,  by  climbing  as  on  ladders,  our 
unfinished  fathers  and  the  creatures  with 
them  might  be  brought  forth  ? 

Even  as  they  led  them  forth,  the  Twain 
Beloved  taught  certain  Chosen  Ones  con- 
cerning the  substance  and  meaning  of 
things  high  and  low.  And  they  said  unto 
the  Chosen  Ones:  Fear  not  the  serpent 
shafts  of  the  lightning  as  they  rattle  loudly, 
that  the  earth  be  replenished  with  their 
children  the  serpents  of  water,  the  rivers  of 
life.  Fear  not  the  light  of  the  Sun-Father, 
though  at  first  it  seemeth  to  blind  and 
to  blight,  for  beneath  him  he  carries  his 
shield,  so  that  the  world  is  not  seared  as 
he  journeys  along  the  path  of  day,  —  the 
path  that  leads  to  the  hollow  mountain  of 
the  sunset  sea  where  he  dies.  But  that  is 
his  mother-home,  and  when  he  enters  it  he 
is  straightway  born  anew  in  the  Under- 
world ;  yet  again,  when  night  is  done,  to  be 
born  through  the  hollow  mountain  of  the 
sunrise  sea,  his  father-home. 

It  is  then  at  sunrise  — after  the  nine 

days  of  their  nativity  are  numbered  —  that 

the  sisters  of    mothers    carry  forth  the 

new-born  babes  with  fervent  prayers  and 

32 


breathings  to  receive  the  young  light  and 
new  breath  of  the  ever-ancient  but  again 
new-born  Sun-Father  ;  and  as  he  is  newly 
come  from  his  father-home,  so  these  little 
ones  are  now  first  given  into  the  arms  of 
their  father's  sisters,  and  named  with  the 
names  of  their  childhood.  Thus  even  as 
the  Father  of  the  Day  is  a  new-made  child 
in  the  morning,  even  so  we  pray  that  the 
light  of  his  birth  may  linger  long  upon 
them  ere  they  have  their  setting. 

We  have  learned  why  the  Moon,  fair 
bride  of  the  Sun,  is  thus  the  mother  of  all 
maternity,  and  why,  therefore,  so  often  at 
night  she  leans  forth  over  the  terraced 
shores  of  the  sky  ocean,  and  reaches  her 
white  arms  down  toward  now  some,  now 
others,  of  the  mothers  of  men,  according 
to  their  appointed  days  of  sacrifice  in  Her 
waxing  and  waning;  while  her  younger 
sister,  Goddess  of  the  White  Shells, 
beckons  to  men,  —  telling  them  that  all 
maidens  may  become  daughters  of  her 
elder  sister,  as  their  own  mothers  be- 
came, won  by  love-presents  of  her  white 
shells  from  the  shores  of  her  home  in  the 
sea. 

33 


Our  ancients  tell  how  the  Twain  Be- 
loved who  first  guided  them  forth  from  the 
Under-world  became  warriors,  —  grim  and 
misshapen,  so  ugly  that  all  maidens  jeered 
at  them.  Yet,  forsooth,  they  would  rival 
all  youths ! 

"What  are  the  most  beautiful  flowers 
that  grow?"  said  one.  "The  seven-hued 
flowers  of  Te-na-tsa-li,"  said  the  other. 
"  Lo  !  we  will  seek  him  afar !  "  They 
found  a  measuring-worm  greater  than  any 
ever  seen  by  man.  They  called  him 
"Grandfather,"  and  with  other  winsome 
words  won  him  to  help  them. 

"  Sit  ye  astride  me,  little  fellows,"  said 
he.  Then  he  arched  his  back  with  such 
mighty  strain  that  he  stretched  himself  to 
the  sky,  and,  plunging  westward,  reached 
even  to  the  far  mountain  of  T6-na-tsa-li ! 
There  they  found  T£-na-tsa-li,  aged  and 
white-haired  with  all  the  winters  that  had 
ever  been.  And  long  they  shouted  ere  He 
heard  them,  so  old  was  he !  Hearing,  he 
passed  his  hand  before  his  breast,  breath- 
ing mists,  whence  he  issued,  a  youth  glo- 
rious and  happy  to  see,  young  with  all  the 
springtimes  that  had  ever  been.  Flowers 
34 


Commentary 

were  growing  bright  and  fresh  from  his 
head-dress.  Flowers  sprang  up  all  around 
his  mountain  from  the  mists  of  his  breath. 
"  Pluck  these  !  "  he  said,  smiling  gladly. 
And  they  plucked  countless  flowers  from 
his  head-dress,  and  countless  the  flowers 
grew  where  they  had  plucked.  But  when 
they  returned  to  A'-mi-to-lan-ne,  the  mea- 
suring-worm, he  was  devouring  the  flow- 
ers at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  "  Nay, 
I  will  not  bear  ye  back,"  said  he,  "  ere  I 
have  plucked  all  these  flowers  ;  for  so  great 
am  I  grown  with  my  journey  that  no  for- 
est would  surfeit  my  hunger." 

"But  we  will  deck  thee,  Grandfather, 
with  some  of  these  brighter  ones ;  and  for 
food,  consume  the  clouds  of  the  sky  as  erst- 
while thou  didst  the  forest  leaves." 

Then  he  bore  them  back  swiftly.  And 
with  their  flowers  they  won  the  smiles  of 
all  maidens  whose  favor  they  chose  to 
win.  But,  decked  by  the  flowers  they  left 
on  him,  the  measuring-worm  of  the  skies 
sprang  aloft,  streaking  the  full  length  of 
his  body  with  all  their  glorious  colors. 
Fadeless  these  hues  as  the  sun,  for,  as 
then  he  consumed  the  bright  rain-clouds 

35 


Commentary 

and  drew  up  the  life  of  all  flowers,  so  ever 
it  is  to  this  day. 

Evil  and  good  are  the  gods,  even  as  men. 
The  Morning  Star,  elder  of  the  Beloved 
Twain  who  descended,  gives  strength  to 
the  Bearers  of  Bows,  and  wakes  them  at 
the  most  fearsome  time  of  the  morning. 
The  Sun  -  Father,  following,  makes  the 
world  new  each  day,  giving  new  life  to  all 
men,  and  the  light  of  wisdom  to  his  fa- 
vored children  ;  while  the  Moon-Mother 
renews  life  from  month  to  month  and 
generation  to  generation.  But  the  light- 
ning—  good  from  WiMo-lo-a-ne — is  deadly 
when  sent  by  A'-nah-si-a-na,  wielder  of 
thunder  -  bolts ;  so  we  cut  their  jagged 
swift  lines  on  our  arrows  that  these  may 
be  made  certain  and  fatal  by  the  power  of 
likeness.  And  we  paint  on  our  shields  the 
hated  bright  form  of  A'-mi-to-lan-ne,  con- 
sumer of  clouds,  that  our  enemies,  seeing 
it  and  dreading,  may  be  withered  as  by  him 
are  green-growing  things.  Terrible  is  the 
Whirlwind  Man-Eagle  of  the  skies,  wind- 
ing down  from  on  high  and  striding  over 
the  earth.  His  form,  and  the  form  of  his 
younger  brother,  the  Eagle,  whose  plumes 
36 


we  wear,  we  also  paint  on  our  war-gear. 
For  our  Fathers  of  the  Bow  were  taught 
the  potency  of  dread  symbols. 

So,  the  fathers  of  our  other  sacred  as- 
semblies were  taught  that  with  feather- 
stroking  and  fearless  thought  they  could 
quell  the  anger  of  a  venomed  serpent,  or 
command  the  fiercest  beasts  at  night-time, 
with  magic  circles  of  yucca  and  crystals  of 
divination.  For  by  mystic  motions  and 
the  power  of  the  eye,  they  could  draw  their 
souls  forth  in  the  moonlight,  and  through 
those  loops  of  rebirth  enter  their  bodies 
and  learn  all  their  ways ;  yea,  and  the  craft 
of  their  gods  themselves.  So  learned  they 
of  the  great  mountain  lion  of  the  North- 
land how  to  subdue  alike  the  elk  or  the 
strong  bison,  how  even  to  stay  the  flight  of 
the  grouse  over  the  snow  ;  so  of  the  bear 
and  coyote,  masters  of  the  Westland,  how 
to  overreach  even  the  mountain  sheep ; 
and  so  of  the  wild-cat  and  the  badger,  mas- 
ters of  the  Southland,  how  to  capture  the 
red  deer  and  draw  fire  from  the  cedar ; 
and  of  the  gray,  gaunt  wolf-god  of  the 
Eastland  they  learned  how  his  children 
overtake  the  fleet-footed  comrades  of  the 
37 


dawn  on  far  mesas,  the  antelopes  ;  so,  too, 
of  the  eagle-god  of  the  Over-world,  how  to 
be,  as  are  his  children,  far-sighted  and  un- 
failing; and  of  the  preymole  and  gopher, 
masters  of  the  Under-world,  how  their  chil- 
dren burrow  pitfalls  for  unwary  walkers. 
Gods,  all  of  these,  of  all  the  Six  Regions, 
in  semblance  of  beasts  who  command  sepa- 
rately in  each. 

Magical  as  were  our  fathers,  neither  the 
master -gods,  nor  their  messengers  the 
beast-gods,  would  show  aught  to  others 
than  their  own  children  among  men,  the 
elders  of  the  clans  named  after  them- 
selves, and  they  willed  not  that  their  se- 
crets be  revealed  to  any  others.  Where- 
fore we  have  sacred  assemblies  of  wise 
priests  —  of  the  North,  twain  brotherhoods, 
wield  ers  of  cold,  makers  of  war ;  of  the 
West,  world  of  waters,  twain  also,  —  hold- 
ers of  the  seed  of  rain  and  spring  making  ; 
of  the  South,  twain,  —  masters  of  fire  and 
scourgers  of  sorcery  and  fevered  sickness  ; 
of  the  East,  twain  holders  of  the  seed  of 
soil,  of  the  secret  of  maturing,  interpreters 
of  the  meaning  of  light  to  the  Spirits  of 
Men;  of  the  Over-world  twain,  —  priests 
38 


Commentary 

of  the  eagle-kind,  and  of  daylight  to  mor- 
tals ;  and  of  the  Under-world  twain,  — 
priests  of  the  serpent  and  darkness,  who 
know  how  begotten  are  all  seeds  and  beings. 
These  be  the  four  brotherhoods  of  Win- 
ter, Spring,  Summer,  and  Autumn  ;  of  the 
medicines  of  Air,  Water,  Fire  and  Earth, 
whereby  all  beings  live ;  and  the  two  bro- 
therhoods of  the  two  states  wherein  all 
things  and  all  creatures  are,  —  waking  or 
sleeping,  —  Light  and  Darkness.  But  over 
them  all  and  wiser  than  all  are  our  seven 
foremost  fathers,  guardians  and  priests  of 
the  prayers,  songs  and  dances  of  our  sacred 
A'-ka-ka ;  first,  the  six  masters  of  the  re- 
gions six,  then  the  Father  of  them  all, 
Priest  Speaker  of  the  Sun,  and  the  Mother 
of  us  all,  Priestess  Keeper  of  their  seed,  for 
they  are  of  the  mid-most  place. 

So  wise  are  these  our  fathers,  that  they 
can  tell  us  why,  when  serpents,  younger 
brothers  of  the  Lightning,  have  stilled 
their  rattling,  the  Thunder  too  is  hushed, 
and  the  Bear  lazily  sleeps,  no  longer  guard- 
ing the  Westland  from  the  cold  of  the  Ice- 
gods  and  the  white  down  of  their  mighty 
breathing.  How,  when  the  Bear  awaking, 
39 


Commentary 

growls  in  springtime  and  the  answering 
thunders  mutter,  the  strength  of  the  Ice- 
gods  being  shaken,  the  flute  of  Pai'-ya- 
tu-ma,  god  of  dew  and  the  dawn,  sounds 
afar,  and  the  breath  of  his  corn-maidens 
singing,  comes  warm  from  the  Southland. 
Lo  !  their  song-birds  and  butterflies,  dan- 
cing to  their  music,  forthwith  bring  Sum- 
mer. Then  they  tell  us  't  is  the  time  to 
pluck  the  flowers  of  T6-na-tsa-li,  renewer 
of  seasons,  whose  flesh  in  the  flowers  re- 
news our  flesh,  as  his  breath  in  their  fra- 
grance makes  this  the  time  of  growing. 

Our  fathers,  priests  of  the  Over-world 
and  seers,  teach  us  of  things  afar,  and  the 
hidden  meanings  they  divine  with  the  crys- 
tals we  find,  and  they  tell  us  of  the  sky- 
hero,  God  of  the  Turquoise ;  how,  when 
mortals  became  greedy  of  his  gifts  and 
importunate,  he  wearied,  as  did  his  bride, 
the  white-plumed  Goddess  of  Salt.  So,  to- 
gether they  fled  away,  and  wherever  rained 
the  sweat  of  their  journey,  on  hilltop  or 
mountain,  it  hardened  to  salt  and  tur- 
quoises. 

Our  fathers  of  the  midmost  place,  mas- 
ter priests  of  the  six  sacred  Kiva-Houses, 
40 


Commentary 

go  forth  when  the  Sun-Priest  calls  them 
from  the  housetops,  and  with  prayer-meal 
mark  out  the  lines  of  the  Six  Regions 
whereby  we  shall  plant  our  first  corn  hills ; 
and  they  counsel  for  us  our  plumed  prayer- 
wands,  that  the  Beings  of  all  the  great 
spaces  may  see  in  these  plumes  winged 
with  meaning  the  needs  of  our  children 
and  corn-plants. 

Alas  !  when  we  plant  not  these  plumes 
with  our  hearts  as  well  as  before  the  eyes 
of  men,  no  more  may  be  seen  the  night- 
god  of  new  waters,  the  Toad  with  the 
markings  of  turquoise,  of  coral  and  sun- 
shine on  water.  Nay,  he  sleeps  in  the 
Earth,  until  with  labor  and  fasting  our 
hearts  are  made  right,  and  until  by  wor- 
ship in  song  and  dance  and  with  the  sound 
of  flutes  and  drums,  we  invoke  the  beloved 
Rain  Gods  until  they  must  needs  grant 
our  beseechings.  Then  the  Toad,  appear- 
ing, wins  further  their  favor. 

"  Be  ye  true,"  said  the  Gods  when  time 
was  new,  "  Be  ye  true,  and  by  these  things 
we  give  you,  and  by  the  customs  we  teach 
you,  ye  shall  have  power,  even  over  our- 
selves." And  lo  !  our  fathers  in  that  time 
41 


Commentary 

toiled  sleeplessly,  nor  feared  they  pain, 
that  they  might  still  their  hearts  of  all 
other  longing  save  to  gain  these  things. 

All  that  they  sought  and  gained  has 
been  yearly  untied  from  the  strands  of 
song  and  story  kept  unbroken  through  all 
the  lives  of  men  by  our  sacred  assemblies, 
and  by  the  fathers  of  the  Ka'-kl  For,  as 
did  our  ancients,  so  do  these,  labor  and 
watch  and  fast  enduringly  through  all  ap- 
pointed nights,  keeping  silence  by  day,  that 
their  sacred  thoughts  may  be  unbroken 
and  their  hearts  be  kept  likewise  true.  So, 
in  the  perfection  of  their  lives,  our  precious 
forms  and  things  of  the  gods  are  kept 
potent,  and  even  we  are  fitted  to  bring 
them  at  times  into  the  sacred  precincts 
of  the  shrines  of  all  the  Six  Regions,  and 
to  join  there  our  fathers  in  their  vigils  and 
fasts,  and  with  our  dances  and  songs  to 
aid  the  power  of  their  incantations  and 
prayers. 

But  even  in  the  sight  of  these  our  fa- 
thers, we  are  poor  of  heart  and  halting  of 
speech  concerning  sacred  things.  Where- 
fore, our  fathers  purify  us  with  water  and 
honey -dust  consecrated  by  their  living 
42 


Commentary 

breaths,  and  bid  us  wear  all  of  our  trea- 
sures from  sea,  earth,  and  sky,  shells  of  the 
ocean,  turquoises  of  the  mountains,  and 
plumes  of  the  eagle  and  birds  of  the  sum- 
mer ;  to  apparel  ourselves  only  in  the  dress 
of  our  Fair  Goddess  of  Cotton,  robes  broid- 
ered  brightly  with  symbols  of  meaning 
which  shall  speak  for  us  —  speak  with  the 
figured  vases,  wands  and  mantles  we  bear 
into  the  presence  ;  speak  for  us  and  save 
us  from  fear  and  disfavor,  when  at  the  call 
of  their  dread  but  beloved  names,  the 
Mighty  Gods  from  the  far  Regions  lay 
hold  of  their  parts  in  our  altars.  By  these 
fulfilments  of  our  worship  we  win  all  gifts, 
not  corn  alone,  but  length  of  life.  Aye, 
we  live,  live,  though  for  ages  danger  and 
war  have  sore  encompassed  us  here  in  the 
midmost  place. 

Even  so  said  the  Twain  Beloved  when 
they  led  men  forth  into  daylight,  and  the 
borders  of  the  world  were  new  and  all  un- 
stable with  earthquakes  and  thunder :  "  Seek 
ye  the  place  of  the  middle,  the  lap  of  the 
Earth-Mother,  —  there  only  may  ye  bide 
in  safety."  And  they  led  them  for  count- 
less years  through  far  journeys.  Great 
43 


Commentary 

were  our  people,  greater  and  greater  grew 
they,  walking  with  Gods  as  they  eastward 
came. 

In  the  tales  of  those  times  their  wisdom 
is  told  us.  We-are  their  children  !  Until 
our  hearths  are  blackened,  these  tales  shall 
be  told.  Naught  else  will  keep  our  fires 
from  dying ! 

There  was  a  man,  —  born  ere  the  Twain 
Beloved  descended.  Alone  he  walked  the 
Path  of  Day.  His  prayer  that  men  be 
born  to  the  sunlight  was  granted  !  But 
no  man  knew,  and  ages  passed  away.  Lo ! 
he  was  born  again,  poor  and  lonely,  when 
men  had  grown  evil.  It  was  his  prayer 
that  he  be  born  again,  which  was  granted ! 
Oh,  our  Master  P6-shai-an-k'ya,  we  did  not 
know  him !  Only  few  knew  him.  These 
followed  him  to  his  wondrous  City-in-the- 
Mists-Enfolded,  and  were  taught  by  him 
all  that  men  lacked  of  good ;  all  that  men 
knew  not  of  the  mysteries  of  worship  ;  all 
that  men  needed  for  the  ways  of  life.  "  He 
who  lives  the  perfect  life,"  said  P6-shai-an- 
k'ya,  the  master,  "so  living  shall  perfect 
the  lives  of  the  imperfect.  He  who  lives 
the  perfect  life,  his  heart  must  be  undi- 
44 


Commentary 

vided  and  unwavering.  He  who  would  be 
heard  by  the  silent  Surpassing  Ones,  must 
pray  in  his  heart ;  speaking  or  not  speak- 
ing, he  shall  be  heard  ! "  Saying  such 
things,  —  as  the  sinking  Sun  is  instantly 
gone,  the  Master  left  them  and  never  came 
again.  But  when  we  pray  in  the  words  he 
taught  us,  it  is  His  prayer  that  is  granted ! 
Yea,  and  shall  be  so  long  as  we  keep  burn- 
ing in  our  hearts  his  sacred  fire,  and  with 
willing  hands  from  season  to  season  light 
it  anew  on  our  altars. 

The  soul  of  the  dead  when  but  newly 
done  with  the  daylight  of  life  is  like  an 
awakened  dreamer,  dazed  and  seeing 
naught,  dumb  and  hearing  naught.  It  is 
lost  until  severed  wholly  from  the  sunlight- 
life.  So,  we  of  the  nearest  kin  break  be- 
side the  still  waiting  soul  a  vase  of  the 
water  of  bodily  life,  giving  back  to  the  Sun 
at  his  setting  the  Life  of  Days  as  he  gave 
it  in  the  morning  of  childhood,  —  that  the 
soul,  set  free,  shall  sink  like  him,  to  live 
again  with  the  souls  there  below  the  dark 
waters  of  Ka/-thlu-el-lon,  and,  like  him,  rise 
again  to  breath  in  the  clouds  here  above 
us.  Therefore,  too,  we  give  the  body  to 
45 


Commentary 

the  Earth-Mother,  that  it  call  not  the  soul 
forth  to  be  a  lonely  ghost,  or  vex  it  while 
it  is  taking  part  in  the  glad  councils  and 
dances  of  the  Ancients.  So  also  we  plant 
by  the  river-side  plumes  of  the  westward- 
winging  summer-birds,  as  the  signs  of  Life 
and  of  the  way  and  of  our  prayers,  to  waft 
the  unwakened  soul  thither,  and  speak  for 
it  whilst  as  yet  it  knows  not  the  life  of  the 
Lake  of  Spirits.  Verily  we  lie  down  to 
the  sleep  of  fulfilment  fearlessly  and  well 
content.  We  do  not  forget  that  the  light- 
ning is  not  dimmed  by  the  darkness.  It 
but  gleams  the  more  brightly.  Even  so  is 
it  with  the  souls  of  men  in  the  night-time 

of  death. 

***** 

The  ruined  towns  of  the  Ancient  People 
lie  scattered  throughout  the  valleys  and 
plains  of  our  vast  southwest.  Whilst  some 
of  these  mark  the  paths  of  their  slow  mi- 
grations, others  were  their  homes  for  ages. 
This  was  conclusively  shown  by  the  ex- 
tensive and  careful  excavations  continued 
for  nearly  two  years  by  the  Hemenway 
Archaeological  Expedition,  in  some  of  the 
ancient  cities  or  great  clusters  of  pueblos 

46 


Commentary 

in  southern  Arizona.  There,  in  the  lower 
plain  of  the  Salado  River  alone,  I  found 
and  examined  some  thirteen  of  these  Pue- 
blo cities.  Each  of  them  was  buried  from 
sight  save  for  a  great  solitary  earth  mound 
which  stood  surrounded  by  low,  wide- 
reaching  and  seemingly  natural  undulations 
of  the  soil.  Traversing  the  plain  almost 
from  border  to  border  were  wavering,  faint 
lines  of  water-stones,  and  here  and  there 
dim  furrows.  These  —  so  it  proved  later 
—  showed  the  courses  of  canals,  once  well 
lined  with  hardened  clay.  Each  slightest 
elevation  around  the  great  mounds  covered 
the  foundations  of  many-roomed  houses, 
while  the  central  mounds  themselves  proved 
to  be  great  Kiva-Temples.  The  arrange- 
ment of  the  rooms  in  these  was  so  like  the 
plans  marked  out  in  prayer-meal  for  priest- 
ly ceremonials  in  Zuni  to-day,  and  the 
paraphernalia  we  unearthed  from  them 
were  so  like  what  is  used  in  these  same 
Zuni  ceremonials,  that  one  must  needs  be- 
lieve the  builders  of  those  and  uncounted 
other  such  cities  to  have  been  near  kin- 
dred to  the  Zunis,  at  least  in  culture.  Be- 
lieving, as  the  Zuftis  do,  that  they  were 
47 


Commentary 

more  than  this,  that  these  ruins  were  the 
homes  of  their  own  ancestors  and  "  Lost 
Others,"  —  those  who  faltered  in  seeking 
the  Middle  of  the  World,  and  so  drifted 
away  southward,  no  one  knows  whither, 
—  we  cannot  wonder  that  they  speak  of 
theirs  as  the  "  Waning  Moon,"  likening  us 
palefaces  in  number  to  those  same  dead 
ancestors  and  Lost  Others. 

And  again,  if  one  thinks  as  they  so  often 
think,  of  the  times  when  they  fled  from 
their  beloved  plain  at  the  middle  of  the 
world,  and  rebuilt  on  the  broad  and  lofty 
summit  of  Thunder  Mountain  their  citadels 
of  stone,  and  that  in  those  days  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach  from  their  topmost 
terrace,  all  the  plains  and  valleys  were 
their  own  possessions,  stoutly  held  in  stress 
of  war  at  fearful  odds ;  we  can  imagine 
what  they  think  and  feel  to-day  when  all 
too  easily  they  look  across  the  narrow 
strip  of  land  we  let  them  call  their  own. 
Miss  Proctor  tells  us  in  words  so  like  their 
own  that  it  seems  almost  vain  to  add  an- 
other. Yet  this  is  what  their  old  men 
say :  — 

"  Beasts  in  a  tempest  do  not  bellow  at 
48 


the  wind ;  they  know  it  would  not  heed 
them  !  Let  us  then  turn  our  backs  to  the 
coming  time  of  stormy  thoughts,  our  faces 
to  the  mighty  past  of  our  ancients,  —  that 
past  which  never  ceases,  —  that  we  may 
remember  we  are  their  children,  and  be 
strong  yet  a  little  longer." 

In  such  wise  do  the  old  men  answer 
when  some  one  younger  wonders  how  it 
will  seem  when  they  are  all  like  "  Ameri- 
cans," as  some  Americans  promise  they 
shall  be.  "  Ye  will  not  be  like  them,"  I 
once  heard  a  venerable  sage  reply,  "  ye  will 
be  dead  !  Aye,  and  't  is  better  so !  " 
49 


BY  JOHN  FISKE 


i»  "  Ours  is  the  ancient  wisdom"  —  The 
kiva,  better  known  to  us,  perhaps,  by  its  Span- 
ish name  estufa,  is,  among  other  things,  the 
university,  or  perhaps  we  might  say  the  divinity 
school,  of  the  Pueblo.  Here  the  young  man 
is  orally  instructed  in  all  the  sacred  rites  and 
ceremonies  of  his  people,  their  genesis  and 
their  traditions.  So  careful  are  they  that  no 
mistakes  shall  be  made,  the  youth  is  obliged  to 
go  over,  day  after  day  and  year  after  year,  these 
oral  instructions  and  the  long  rituals,  until  he 
is  able  to  repeat  them  without  the  loss  of  a  sen- 
tence or  word,  thereby  proving  himself  quali- 
fied to  succeed  the  older  men  of  his  people, 
and  so  transmit  this  sacred  knowledge  to  com- 
ing generations. 

The  picture  represents  a  daily  occurrence  in 
the  kiva  life.  The  priests  have  taken  their 
proper  places  about  the  flat  altar,  where  a 
small  fire  is  kept  burning ;  a  youth  stands  be- 
fore them,  in  class,  so  to  speak,  receiving  his 
lesson. 

53 


Among  the  Moquis,  the  kiva  is  excavated  out 
of  the  rock  below  the  surface  of  the  mesa,  and 
then  covered  over,  leaving  an  opening  through 
which  descent  is  made  by  a  ladder.  The  kivas 
of  the  Zuni  and  the  Pueblos  of  the  Rio  Grande 
are  built  above  the  ground,  although  entrance 
to  them  is  made  from  the  top,  as  with  the 
Moquis. 

In  each  Pueblo  there  are  as  many  kivas  as 
there  are  groups  or  classes  of  esoteric  socie- 
ties ;  as,  for  example,  the  orders  of  the  Ante- 
lope, the  Snake,  the  Bear,  the  Eagle,  etc.,  etc. 
The  basket,  co-ja-ni-na  (people  of  the  Willows), 
so  called  from  the  tribe  that  live  at  the  foot 
of  Cataract  Canon,  among  the  heavy  grove  of 
willows  that  grow  there,  contains  pe-ki,  the  na- 
tive bread,  of  a  slate  color.  The  embroidered 
sash  is  used  in  ceremonies.  The  jar,  or  otta^ 
containing  water,  can  be  found  in  all  the  kivas 
when  work  is  going  on. 

The  men  all  smoke  during  their  ceremonies, 
sometimes  their  ancient  pipes,  but  more  gen- 
erally cigarettes. 

2.  The  Sun-god,  the  chief  deity  of  the  Pueblo 
Indians,  is  believed  to  be  the  Father  of  all 
men.  He  dies  every  evening  with  the  setting, 
and  is  born  anew  every  morning  with  the  ris- 
ing sun.  "  The  Sun-father,  soaring  above  the 
54 


sun,  moon,  and  stars,  ...  is  surrounded  by  the 
symbols  of  the  principal  phenomena  in  nature 
that  are  regarded  as  essentially  beneficent  to 
mankind."  (Bandelier,  The  Delight  Makers,  p. 

I47-) 

2.  "  We  carry  our  new-born  children  forth"  — 
Among  the  Moqui  Indians,  it  is  customary, 
twenty  days  after  the  birth  of  a  child,  to  intro- 
duce the  infant  to  the  sun.  The  godmother, 
after  wrapping  the  baby  in  an  old  blanket,  and 
placing  it  in  its  cradle,  laces  the  child,  together 
with  an  ear  of  corn,  snugly  in  its  place. 

The  father  watches  for  the  coming  of  the 
sun,  and  when  he  announces  its  faintest  ap- 
pearance, the  godmother  with  the  child,  fol- 
lowed by  the  mother,  steps  out  of  the  house, 
and  they  stand  on  each  side  of  the  door,  the 
mother  at  the  right,  the  godmother  at  the  left. 
They  both  scatter*  sacred  meal  as  the  sun  ap- 
pears. As  soon  as  the  child  has  been  thus  pre- 
sented they  retire  into  the  house,  where  their 
relatives  are  awaiting  them.  For  a  complete 
account  of  this  ceremony,  see  the  article  "  Na- 
tal Ceremonies  of  the  Hopi  Indians,"  by  J.  G. 
Owens,  in  the  Journal  of  American  Ethnology 
and  Archeology  ^  vol.  ii.  p.  163.  In  Zuni  the 
ceremony,  which  is  very  similar,  is  performed 
on  the  tenth  day.  See  Mrs.  Stevenson,  "  Re- 

55 


ligious  Life  of  a  Zuni  Child,"  in  Fifth  Report 
of  the  Bureau  of  Ethnology. 

3.  "  A'-mi-to-lan-ne"  is  one  of  the  Zuni  names 
for  rainbow.    There  are  distinct  Rainbow  gods 
and  goddesses,  as  there  are  distinct  Lightning 
deities.     Nearly  all  phenomena,  personified  as 
gods,  are  in  a  measure  regarded  as  animals, 
and  of  each  kind  there  are  apt  to  be  many, 
male  and  female,  good   and   evil.     Thus  the 
principal  Rainbow  god  is  a  male,  "  false  and 
cruel  "  like  the  "  ruthless  worm  "  that  devours 
the  buds.     He  is  called  "consumer  of  clouds," 
"stealer   of  the   thunder-ball,"  etc.     On  the 
other  hand  the  "  Rainbow  of  the  Mist,"  A'-mi- 
to-la-ni-tsa,  is  a  fertile  female,  a  kinswoman  of 
the  Dew  or  Morning-Mist.    She  is  the  bearer 
of  salubrious  breaths  and  good  tidings  from 
"  Those  Above,"  i.  e.,  the  immortal   Cosmic 
Gods. 

4.  "  The  Corn-maids "  are  mythological  be- 
ings supposed  to  give  fertility  to  the  soil  and 
foster  the  growth  of  the  corn.    In  the  Corn- 
Drama  they  are  personated  by  virgins  regarded 
as  their  own  human  sisters. 

During  the  planting  season,  and  until  the 
ripening  of  the  corn,  these  virgins  are  fre- 
quently employed  in  watching  the  fields,  that 
the  ravens  may  not  raid  them  and  destroy  the 

56 


prospect  of  a  crop.  They  build  bowers  of 
cotton-wood  limbs,  for  shade,  and  in  these 
make  their  summer  homes,  having  with  them 
their  blankets  and  furs,  and  such  needlework 
as  they  occupy  their  time  with.  The  picture  is 
from  a  sketch  made  in  the  Zuni  basin,  some  six 
miles  from  the  Pueblo. 

The  costumes  of  all  the  Pueblo  women  are 
quite  the  same.  All  the  blanket-dresses  are 
made  by  the  Moquis,  and  sold  by  them  among 
the  other  Pueblos.  Sometimes  they  receive 
money  in  return,  but  more  often  ponies,  shell 
beads,  turquoise  beads,  silver  ornaments  made 
by  the  Navajos,  and  larger  and  more  fanciful 
blankets  for  general  covering. 

In  this  picture  of  the  Zuni  girls  one  can 
fancy  one's  self  looking  at  a  bevy  of  Moqui 
maidens  (barring  the  cart-wheel  puffs),  or  any 
of  the  young  women  of  the  Pueblos  of  the  Rio 
Grande.  The  type  is  the  same  among  them 
all. 

5.  "  The  eagle,  bird  of  the  Whirlwind-God;1 
figures  often  in  Zuni  folk-tales,  where  he  per- 
forms marvelous  feats.  "  Eagle  feathers  are 
highly  esteemed  for  religious  purposes.  Eagles 
are  kept  in  wattled  corrals  on  the  west  side  of 
Zuni  Pueblo,  in  the  plaza  near  the  church,  and 
here  and  there  throughout  the  Pueblo,  some- 

57 


times  even  on  the  housetops,  without  cages. 
They  are  often  sorry  -  looking  birds,  poorly 
representing  an  emblem  of  national  power." 
(J.  W.  Fewkes,  Journal  of  American  Ethnology 
and  Archceology,  vol.  ii.  p.  26.) 

5.  "  Wile  the  wolf  from  his  den."  —  The  In- 
dians have  peculiar  calls  which  they  use  in 
alluring  game  within  shooting  distance  of  the 
bow  and  arrow ;  and  sometimes  so  close  that 
they  can  dispatch  a  wolf  or  coyote  with  their 
stone  axes. 

The  call  which  allures  the  wolf  is  the  pecu- 
liar sound  uttered  by  the  female  wild  turkey. 
Then  they  use  the  bone  of  the  turkey  leg  for 
a  whistle,  with  which  they  imitate  various 
birds,  calling  the  larger  ones  by  uttering  the 
notes  of  the  small  ones,  upon  which  they  prey. 
These  are  the  methods  most  obvious  to  us, 
but  regarded  by  the  Indian  as  comparatively 
clumsy.  Priests  of  the  hunter  societies,  through 
their  intimate  knowledge  of  animal  habits  and 
aptitudes,  exhibit  remarkable  powers  of  charm- 
ing beasts  and  birds.  They  sometimes  pro- 
duce effects  analogous  to  hypnotism.  Mr. 
Gushing  tells  me  that  he  has  seen  prairie-dogs 
lured  out  to  the  edges  of  their  burrows  by  cries 
half-imitative,  half-musical ;  and  then  held  mo- 
tionless there  by  the  flashing  of  light  into  their 

58 


eyes  from  prisms  of  rock-crystal,  until  they  be- 
came stupefied  and  could  be  captured  alive. 

The  landscape  in  this  picture  is  from  the 
butte  and  canon  country  of  northern  Arizona. 

7.  "  The  lilies  of  Te-na-tsa-li."  —  This  person 
is  the  hero  of  a  folk-tale.  He  attempted  to  woo 
a  lovely  maiden,  who,  with  her  three  beautiful 
sisters,  lived  at  Kiakima  on  Thunder  Moun- 
tain. These  maidens  were  very  rich,  and  made 
beautiful  baskets.  Many  young  men  tried  to 
woo  them,  but  each  one  disappeared  mysteri- 
ously, having  been  killed  by  these  cruel  but 
beautiful  girls.  Te'-na-tsa-li,  a  child  of  the  gods, 
the  brother  of  the  god  of  Dew,  loved  the  elder 
one,  and  went  to  her  house.  The  maiden  said 
if  he  could  hide  from  her  so  she  could  not  find 
him,  then  she  would  wed  him ;  but  he,  know- 
ing her  magic  arts,  refused  to  go  first,  and  in- 
sisted upon  her  hiding  from  him.  This  she 
tried  to  do,  but  by  means  of  magic  he  found 
her.  Then  he  tried  to  hide  from  her,  but,  know- 
ing that  she  could  find  him,  by  magic,  any- 
where on  earth,  he  mounted  on  a  sun's  ray  to 
the  Sun-father.  The  maiden  followed  his  foot- 
steps till  they  stopped,  and  then,  filling  a  shell 
with  water,  looked  into  it  and  saw  the  reflec- 
tion of  the  sun,  and  Te'-na-tsa-li  hidden  there. 
When  he  found  he  was  discovered,  Te'-na-tsa-li 
59 


came  to  the  earth  again,  and  asked  the  maiden 
what  her  commands  were.  Without  answering 
she  drew  a  sharp  obsidian  knife  from  her  robe 
and  cut  off  his  head,  buried  the  body,  and 
dragged  the  bleeding  head  to  her  house,  where 
she  hid  it.  As  Te*-na-tsa-li  did  not  return  home, 
his  brother  went  to  find  him,  and  was  able  to 
trace  him  by  the  beautiful  flowers  which  had 
sprung  up  where  he  had  stepped  or  his  blood 
had  dropped.  The  bright-colored  lilies  which 
grow  near  Zuni  are  called  the  lilies  of  Te*-na- 
tsa-li,  and  are  said  to  have  the  power  to  heal 
the  sick  and  those  who  have  suffered  in  war. 
(Abridged  from  a  Zuni  folk-tale,  translated  by 
F.  H.  Gushing.) 

7.  "Plant  the  earliest  maize"  —  In  aboriginal 
American  mythology  the  beautiful  Indian  corn 
plays  as  prominent  a  part  as  the  cow  in  an- 
cient Aryan  folk-lore.  Dr.  Fewkes  observes 
that  "this  characteristic  American  plant  may 
rightly  be  called  the  natural  food  of  all  the 
Pueblo  people.  Their  folk-tales  teem  with  ref- 
erences to  it,  and  it  is  regarded  as  one  of  the 
best  gifts  of  the  gods.  Their  language  is  rich 
in  names  for  maize  in  its  different  stages  of 
growth,  and  for  the  products  made  from  it." 

7.  "Prayer-flumes"  are  "painted  sticks  to 
which  the  feathers  or  down  of  various  birds 
60 


(according  to  the  nature  of  the  prayer  they  are 
to  signify)  are  attached.  The  aborigine  depos- 
its these  wherever  and  whenever  he  feels  like 
addressing  himself  to  the  higher  powers,  be  it 
for  a  request,  in  adoration  only,  or  for  thanks- 
giving. In  a  certain  way  the  prayer-plume  or 
plume-stick  is  a  substitute  for  prayer,  inas- 
much as  he  who  has  not  time  may  deposit  it 
hurriedly  as  a  votive  offering.  The  paint  which 
covers  the  piece  of  stick  to  which  the  feather 
is  attached  becomes  appropriately  significant 
through  its  colors ;  the  feather  itself  is  the  sym- 
bol of  human  thought,  flitting  as  one  set  adrift 
in  the  air  toward  heaven,  where  dwell  those 
above."  (Ranfalizr,  The  Delight  Makers  y\>.  100.) 

"  While  she  stands  and  gazes  and  dreams,  a 
flake  of  down  becomes  detached,  and  quivers 
upward  in  the  direction  of  the  moon's  silvery 
orb.  Such  a  flitting  and  floating  plume  is  the 
symbol  of  prayer.  It  rises  and  rises,  and  at 
last  disappears  as  if  absorbed  by  moonlight. 
The  mother  above  has  listened  to  her  entreaty, 
for  the  symbol  of  her  thought,  the  feather,  has 
gone  to  rest  in  the  bosom  of  her  who  watches 
over  every  house,  who  feels  with  every  loving, 
praying  heart."  (Ibid.  p.  154.) 

7.  "As  full  to  the  east  we  kneel"  —  The  cere- 
mony of  planting  ba-hos  (prayer-sticks)  at  the 
61 


watering-places  is  common  among  all  the  Pue- 
blo Indians.  A  certain  order,  called  K6-K6,  is 
composed  partly  of  unmarried  women,  who  take 
a  vow  of  celibacy  before  entering  the  order. 
They  repair  to  the  springs  before  dawn,  and 
place  the  ba-hos  about  the  water.  This  is  to 
invoke  the  aid  of  the  water-god  to  send  them 
plenty  of  rain,  that  their  crops  may  be  bounti- 
ful. 

The  feathers  attached  to  the  ba-hos  symbol- 
ize thought,  and  in  this  ceremony  waft  their 
prayers  to  the  water-god  above ;  the  sticks  to 
which  the  feathers  are  attached  are  fashioned 
to  represent  lightning,  the  water-deity. 

The  Pueblo  Indians,  not  being  able  to  sepa- 
rate the  subjective  from  the  objective,  recog- 
nize a  likeness  between  the  snake  and  the 
lightning,  therefore  they  are  related  ;  and  for 
this  reason  we  account  for  their  high  venera- 
tion of  the  snake.  They  believe  lightning  to 
be  the  water-god  himself.  When  he  appears 
he  strikes  a  cloud,  and  the  report  of  the  blow 
is  the  thunder  which  follows ;  the  effect  is  rain. 

This  ceremony  is  performed  two  or  three  or 
more  times  a  year,  according  to  the  condition 
of  the  weather.  Drought  will  bring  the  K6- 
K6  together  for  this  ceremony  more  frequently, 
of  course. 

62 


Prayer-sticks  of  similar  construction  to  the 
ba-ho  are  placed  about  the  graves  of  the  de- 
parted. 

7.  "And  the  water-god,  the  jeweled  toad."  — 
In  the  Southwest  during  and  after  a  rain  the 
beautiful  desert  toads  come  to  the  surface,  and 
when  wet  their  bodies  reflect  the  light  and  shine 
like  jewels.  The  Indians  believed  that  these 
toads  had  power  to  bring  rain,  and  so  they  used 
to  make  images  of  toads  which  they  placed 
along  their  watercourses  to  guide  the  water. 
Very  few  of  these  fetishes  are  known  to  exist 
now;  but  beautiful  ancient  specimens,  encrusted 
with  turquoises  and  coral-shells  inlaid  in  gum, 
were  found  by  the  Hemenway  Expedition  in 
the  buried  Pueblos  of  the  Salado  valley. 

9.  "The  dance  and  prayers  of  the  A'-kd-kd" 
—  The  A'-ka-ka  (called  Ka-tci-nas  by  the  Mo- 
quis)  is  the  brotherhood  of  the  Mythic-Drama- 
Dance,  and  its  members  represent  symbolically 
the  souls  of  the  first  ancestors  of  mankind. 
For  further  accounts  see  Mrs.  Stevenson,  "  Re- 
ligious Life  of  a  Zuni  Child,"  in  Fifth  Report  of 
the  Bureau  of  Ethnology. 

1 1.  "  Crosses,  terraces,  slanting  bars"  —  "  The 
red  cross  is  the  symbol  of  the  morning  star  5 
the  white,  of  the  evening.  The  terraced  pyra- 
mids are  the  clouds,  for  the  clouds  appear  to 

63 


the  Indian  as  staircases  leading  to  heaven,  and 
they  in  turn  support  the  rainbow,  a  tri-colored 
arch."  (Bandelier,  The  Delight  Makers,  p.  147.) 

12.  "Twin  children  of  the  Sun"  —  There  is 
a  tradition  among  the  Zuni  and  Moqui  Indians 
that  two  youths,  called  "  twin  children  of  the 
Sun,"  bade  adieu  to  their  people,  and  started 
upon  a  pilgrimage  to  find  where  day  began. 
They  were  never  heard  of  afterward,  but  it  is 
supposed  they  are  now  the  guests  of  the  Ka- 
tcf-nas.  They  are  the  "  Twain-Beloved  "  men- 
tioned in  the  Zuni  Familiar's  Commentary. 

These  young  men  are  represented  in  the  tra- 
ditional primitive  costume  of  the  cougar  skin, 
bow  and  quiver,  and  the  eagle  feather. 

12.  "Pb-shai-an-tfya,the  master."  —  A  great 
character  in  Zuni  mythology,  the  leader  and 
saviour  of  the  people.  See  Mr.  Cushing's 
Commentary,  above,  p.  42.  The  conception  of 
Pd-shai-an-k'ya,  as  here  presented  by  Mr. 
Gushing,  suggests  the  query  whether  it  does 
not  betray  the  influence  of  Christian  ideas. 

15.  "  The  silent  hearfs  appeal."  —  Mr.  Scott's 
picture  is  an  Arizona  scene,  the  site  of  one  of 
the  ancient  cities',  the  ruins  of  which  the  In- 
dians maintain  have  always  been  ruins ;  no 
traditions  exist  among  them  of  a  time  when 
they  were  standing,  and  were  the  abode  of  men. 


The  figure  is  a  middle-aged  woman  who  has 
had  trouble ;  she  has  ascended  the  high  mesa 
to  where  the  altar  stands,  and  is  alone  with  her 
sorrow.  These  altars  are  found  in  an  almost 
perfect  state  of  preservation  (so  sacred  are 
they  held  by  all  the  Indians)  among  the  vast 
ruined  towns  that  are  found  on  the  mesa  tops 
that  skirt  the  valleys  of  Arizona  and  New  Mex- 
ico. 

15.  "The  rare  tobacco  leaves"  —  Dr.  Fewkes 
says  (Journal,  vol.  iii.  p.  76)  that  native  to- 
bacco  was   used   in   the   sacred   ceremonials. 
Although  he  supplied  the  Indians  plentifully 
with  white  men's  tobacco,  he  never  saw  them 
use  it  in  sacred  rites.    The  bark  of  the  red 
willow  is  often  used  in  place  of  tobacco. 

1 6.  "  By  the  dead  a  vase  of  water  clear" —  It 
is  the  custom  to  break  a  bowl  of  clear  water 
beside  the  dead,  that  the  soul  may  have  an 
easy  and  speedy  passage  to  the  other  world. 

1 6.  "Through  Ka-thlu-ef -lori  s  Lake."  —  This 
is  a  sacred  lake  about  sixty  miles  southwest  of 
Zuni,  through  which  the  A'-ka^ka"  are  believed 
to  have  come  up  on  the  earth,  and  through 
which,  after  death,  the  soul  passes  to  Shi-papu, 
where  there  is  eternal  dancing  and  feasting. 

18.  "Far  to  west,  Francisco's  peaks" — Mr. 
Scott's  picture  is  a  view  under  the  mesa  of  Shi- 
65 


mo-pa-vi.  The  man  is  going  for  wood  ten 
miles  away  across  the  desert,  while  the  girls, 
on  their  way  to  the  spring,  are  waving  him  a 
good-by. 

The  pueblo  of  Shi-mo-pa-vi  is  the  loftiest  of 
the  Moqui  villages.  From  its  walls  there  is 
a  glorious  view  of  the  desert,  with  the  snow- 
capped peaks  of  the  Francisco  Mountains  in 
central  Arizona,  the  range  whence  the  Fran- 
cisco River  winds  its  way  down  to  the  Gila  and 
the  weird  Colorado,  until  its  waters  are  lost  in 
the  Vermilion  Sea,  as  the  old  explorers  used  to 
call  the  Gulf  of  California.  These  mountains 
have  nothing  to  do  with  San  Francisco,  from 
which  they  are  distant  many  hundred  miles; 
nor  do  they  belong  even  to  the  Sierra  Nevada, 
but  to  the  Rocky  Mountain  system. 

The  picture  is  taken  from  the  upper  terrace 
of  the  mesa.  There  are  three  terraces  below 
as  one  descends  to  the  sand  dunes  and  debris 
at  the  base,  where  you  may  still  see  the  ruins 
of  the  old  town  of  Shi-mo-pa-vi,  destroyed  in 
warfare  three  centuries  ago.  Its  ancient  water- 
ing-places still  remain,  and  supply  the  present 
pueblo. 

20.  "  We  are  the  Ancient  People."  —  The  pic- 
ture is  a  view  of  the  Pueblo  of  Wdlpi,  which  is 
the  most  southerly  village  on  the  first  Moqui 
66 


mesa;  it  is  upon  the  terminal  point  of  the 
mesa,  eight  hundred  feet  above  the  desert. 
Here  the  famous  biennial  snake  dance  takes 
place  about  the  Sacred  Rock  in  front  of  the 
Pueblo. 

The  rock  about  which  the  performance  takes 
place  can  be  seen  directly  in  front  of  the  low- 
est white  dwelling. 

The  stone  corrals  in  the  foreground  are  for 
the  sheep  which  are  taken  down  to  the  desert 
and  back  daily. 

The  mesa  just  above  the  corrals  is  only 
about  twelve  feet  wide,  and  the  trail  to  Walpi 
over  this  part  has  been  worn  to  eight  and 
ten  inches  deep  by  bare  feet  and  soft  mocca- 
sins. 

20.  "Our  heralds  call  at  sunset  still."  —  It  is 
still  the  custom  in  Zuni  and  Moqui  for  the  her- 
ald, who  is  a  kind  of  town  crier,  to  announce 
events,  make  known  the  loss  of  goods,  etc. 

21.  "By  towering   Ta-ai-yat -lo-ne"  —  Mid- 
way  between   the   gateway   of  Zuni   and  the 
Canon  of  Cottonwoods  stands  majestic  Thun- 
der Mountain,  Ta-ai-yal'-lo-ne,  magnificent  in 
the  coloring  and  chiseling  of  its  rocky  sides. 
From  its  hill-ensconced  base  to  its  almost  level 
summit,  the  height  is  about  a  thousand  feet. 
At  the  foot  stand   the  ruins   of  the  ancient 


Zuni  town  of  Kiakima.  It  was  near  this  spot 
that  the  negro  Estevanico,  companion  of  Fray 
Marcos  of  Nizza,  was  killed  by  the  Zunis  in 
I539-  See  Fiske,  Discovery  of  America,  vol.  ii. 

P-  50S- 

22.  "  The  trickling  springs  at  the  mesa  foot" 
—  All  the  water  at  Moqui  has  to  be  carried  up 
to  a  height  of  seven  hundred  feet  from  the 
springs  at  the  foot  of  the  mesa.  Morning  and 
evening  the  women  meet  at  the  watering-places 
to  fill  their  large  canteens  and  ollas,  or  earthen 
jars.  They  take  the  occasion  for  rest  and  gos- 
sip, and,  after  all,  while  their  lives  are  full  of 
toil,  they  seem  careless  and  happy,  and  cer- 
tainly enjoy  themselves  more  than  when  put 
among  civilized  people  whose  advanced  condi- 
tion they  cannot  at  all  comprehend. 

It  is  extremely  interesting  to  go  to  the 
springs  early  in  the  morning  or  at  close  of  day 
and  study  the  groups  that  collect  by  them.  At 
first  they  are  shy  and  restrained  by  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stranger,  but  on  acquaintance  they 
resume  their  natural  ways,  and  begin  to  chatter 
and  frolic. 

The  Moqui  women  dress  their  hair  in  differ- 
ent ways  to  distinguish  a  maiden  from  a  mar- 
ried woman.  The  former  wears  upon  the  side 
of  her  head,  just  above  the  ears,  huge  cart- 
68 


wheel  puffs,  while  the  married  women  and  old 
women  wear  theirs  braided,  banged,  tied  in  a 
knot  behind,  or  allowed  to  drop  loosely  by  the 
sides.  The  Spaniards  noticed  these  cart-wheel 
puffs  in  1539.  No  other  Pueblo  women  have 
adopted  this  peculiar  way  of  distinguishing  the 
maidens. 

This  scene  is  from  under  the  second  Moqui 
mesa. 

22.  "A'-shi-wi"  is  a  Zufri  name  for  the  Zunis 
themselves. 

23.  "The  mountain  meadow's  bloom"  —  In 
the  Zuni  Mountains  there  are  little  meadows 
where  the  deer  used  to  graze,  and  the  picture 
represents   one  of  these  green  places   about 
twenty  miles  from  Zuni. 

It  was  the  ancient  hunting-ground  of  the 
Zuni  Indians,  and  is  at  the  present  time  occu- 
pied by  a  cattle  company,  whose  herds  have 
supplanted  the  deer  and  antelope  of  other 
days.  In  some  of  the  valleys  the  pine-tree 
grows  to  very  great  proportions.  It  should  be 
borne  in  mind  that  the  altitude  of  these  grazing 
spots  is  not  less  than  six  and  seven  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 

69 


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